


Moonstruck

by house_of_lantis



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Set pre-season 3 Teen Wolf
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-29
Updated: 2015-10-15
Packaged: 2018-04-24 00:59:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4899409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/house_of_lantis/pseuds/house_of_lantis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In order to forge an alliance with a strong werewolf pack, Chris Argent and Peter Hale must form a mate-bond to show that the Argents and the Hales have made peace of their blood-soaked pasts. But fooling the packs is easier than fooling themselves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. PART I: THE OLD WAYS

**Author's Note:**

  * For [moonlettuce (Claire)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Claire/gifts), [Temaris](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Temaris/gifts).



> Author’s Note 1: This is a birthday present for moonlettuce/Claire. Thanks to temaris for asking me to play!
> 
> Author’s Note 2: This story doesn’t follow canon timeline. Just know that they’re 17-years old and in their Junior year of high school. Allison isn’t dead; but I haven’t touched on Erica, Boyd, Kira, or Malia in this timeline (too many characters, not enough time to do them all justice). 
> 
> Note: Based on a great prompt by kimmykun on Tumblr, here is the original prompt: 
> 
> When old allied pack of the Hale family come to Beacon Hills to possibly do the same with Scott’s pack, they voice their concerns over having an Argent in it. They quickly make it known they don’t mean Allison. Pushing away her family’s centuries-long code of persecution against wolves to form her own path has earned her the respect of many, including them. Her father, however, is another story. Despite considering himself an honorable man, and having shed the old code himself to follow Allison’s, Chris Argent nevertheless has innocent blood on his hands. Chris knows he can’t argue with that. Having killed more than once over, something as little as a scratch makes him guilty. To convince the packs that Chris is no longer that man, and will never be again, Stiles comes up with the stupidest solution: Pretend that he and Peter Hale are engaged. After all, if the survivor of the greatest evil his family committed can not only forgive, but love an Argent, then the packs can forgive him, too, and align themselves with Scott. Pulling it off, however, is going to be another matter altogether.
> 
> LINK: http://kimmykun.tumblr.com/post/127816920184/petopher-when-old-allied-packs-of-the-hale-family

**PART I: The Old Ways**

 

**Beacon Hills Animal Hospital**

Chris parked his truck in the parking lot and shut off the engine. He looked at the number of familiar vehicles nearby and frowned, wondering why Deaton had called him to attend the pack meeting. Chris didn’t fool himself to think that it was to bring him into the fold; he was far more effective being pack-adjacent, with Allison standing in the pack as the Argent Matriarch.

With a heavy sigh, he got out of his truck and walked into the front door of the animal hospital, the small bell alerting them of his presence. No doubt the werewolves had already heard his approach.

“—would Peter know the Alpha of Monroe Pack anyway?” Stiles scoffed.

“Peter was once mate-promised to Sam,” Derek said, softly. “Before the fire.”

Chris peered into the other rooms, checking that they were empty, and followed the sound of voices to the examination room at the end of the hall that was closest to the back door.

Stiles laughed, derisive and loud. “Whoa! Mate-promised? That’s like a real thing? Promised to be some Alpha’s bitch, huh, Pete?”

“Stiles!” Melissa protested, loudly. “Really?”

“—rip your throat out!”

There was the sound of scuffle and Chris walked into the room to see Derek, Isaac, Deaton, and Sheriff Stilinski holding Peter back, who was growling like he was going to rip Stiles apart.

“Oh shit,” Stiles hissed, jumping back and slamming into a cabinet.

“Knock it off, Hale!” Stilinski said, gruffly.

“Peter, he’s just a boy,” Deaton said, his voice tense. “Albeit a stupid and careless one.”

Scott took a protective step in front of Stiles, brown eyes wide at the sudden hostilities.

Lydia smacked Stiles on the back of his head. “Don’t ever say that again.” Her eyes flicked over to Chris and she smiled. “Oh, hello Mr. Argent.”

“Hey, dad,” Allison called, making a face and smiling. “You’re just in time.”

He nodded to them in polite acknowledgement and raised his eyebrows, looking at what he had walked into. Peter let out another growl when he saw Chris, but he allowed the others to push him back to the other side of the room. He huffed sharply, and then closed his blue eyes, taking in a steady breath until he had his usual calm, unapproachable façade in place. Derek and Isaac kept their positions between Peter and Stiles.

“Stiles, the next time you make a slur against an Alpha’s mate, even a promised one, I won’t stop Peter from taking off your head,” Deaton said, his tone uncompromising.

Peter gave Stiles a sneering, predatory smile. Derek put his hand on Peter’s shoulders, fingers digging into the muscle to keep Peter back.

“Chill out, Peter, you know how Stiles is,” Isaac said, softly. He glanced at Chris and gave him a small nod of his head in greeting.

Deaton took a breath and looked at Chris. “Mr. Argent, thank you for joining us.”

Chris nodded to him and then gave a small smile to Melissa and to the Sheriff.

“What is it that I can do for you, Dr. Deaton?”

“As former Emissary to Talia Hale, I received a message from the Alpha of the Monroe pack, Samuel Monroe, seeking an alliance with the McCall pack, as they are now holding the Beacon Hills territory. In ten days time, Alpha Monroe and a few members of his pack would like to visit Beacon Hills and meet all the members of the pack.”

Chris mulled that over; it would be good for Scott and the others to have alliances with other werewolf packs. “Monroe pack has a history of being peaceful; they have human members in their packs, deep roots to the community. It would be a good alliance for Beacon Hills.”

They stared at him and Chris frowned.

“Is something wrong with the contract? Have you decided not to ally with them?”

Deaton first gave a quelling look at Stiles, the boy making a face and crossing his arms in front of his chest, and then turned to Chris. “The Monroe pack had a few stipulations to the contract. Peter was mate-promised to Sam Monroe; with the fire and Peter’s coma and the events that followed, we never had the chance to break the mate-promise.”

“You don’t want to uphold the mate-promise.” He glanced at Peter, who raised his eyebrow and smirked at him.

“No,” Peter said, tightly, glaring at Chris.

Chris nodded, not surprised that Peter Hale wanted out of his mate-promise to an Alpha. The werewolf already had designs on being an Alpha himself, he would never be content being an Alpha’s mate, no matter the status it would still gain him.

“I called this meeting tonight so that Scott can choose his Emissary in front of the pack,” Deaton said, nodding his head towards Scott.

“I choose Stiles,” Scott said, smiling as Stiles let out an excited ‘whoop’ and the two boys high-fived each other.

Derek rolled his eyes at their antics, giving a low snort of amusement. Peter continued to look bored, his fingers tapping impatiently on his leg. Chris didn’t think for one minute that Peter was bored; he could see the wheels turning in Peter’s mind. What was the werewolf plotting this time? Would he make a move against Monroe pack, somehow usurp the Alpha’s power for his own? Would Peter care that the Monroe pack would arrive in Beacon Hills in full force and decimate the pack and the entire town?

“Wait a minute,” Sheriff Stilinski said, stepping forward and frowning at the boys. “He’s just a kid – they’re both just kids.”

“Come on, dad, I’m not _just a kid_ anymore,” Stiles said, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“Quiet,” Stilinski said, pointing his finger at Stiles, effectively shutting him up for the moment. He looked at Deaton. “Why can’t you be the pack Emissary? You have all the training and experience with working in a pack. If this alliance is as big a deal as you say, then you can’t just leave it in the hands of two seventeen year olds.”

Deaton took a deep breath. “I can’t act as Scott’s Emissary. I still have ties to the Hale pack, even though they may not hold the territory. I remain loyal to the Hales until no Hale walks this earth.”

Derek and Peter exchanged incredulous looks and Chris bit back a laugh. He watched as Peter leaned in to Derek, whispering something, and Derek exhaling through his nose, pushing Peter away.

Isaac snickered, shaking his head. “Rude.”

Stiles leaned close to Scott. “What did he say?”

“Something really nasty,” Scott told him, shrugging, ducking his head when he saw his mom’s disapproving look. “Shhhh, pay attention, Stiles.”

“They’re too young,” Stilinski said, shaking his head. “They’re just teenagers – they have their whole lives ahead of them. If anything, Mr. Argent and the Hales and I should handle the Monroe pack’s visit.”

Deaton shook his head. “We aren’t part of the power structure; this is a meeting between Alphas. As for training—“  

“I can be Emissary-in-Training, right? Dr. Deaton can be my Yoda—“

“I’m not letting you get in the line of fire, Stiles,” the Sheriff said, raising his voice.

“And I’m not all that comfortable with Scott and Isaac being at the center of all this, too,” Melissa added, standing with the Sheriff. “Mr. Argent, you can’t think that this is a good idea.”

Of course he thought it was a horrible idea. They were a bunch of idiots, allowing a dull-headed self-righteous True Alpha and a hyperactive no-experience Emissary to lead a fractured pack with its own history of blood and violence. What self-respecting Alpha would want anything to do with any of them? If it were up to Chris, he’d come in, take one look at them, and clean up the territory.

But Chris Argent was neither an Alpha werewolf, nor pack member, and therefore kept his opinions to himself. He glanced up to see Peter smirking at him, as if he could read Chris’s thoughts. He carefully pulled his expression into something neutral and maintained his balance on his feet.

“Mr. Argent, aren’t you worried for your daughter’s safety?” The Sheriff said.

They all looked at Chris, as the third parent in the group, to join their protests, but he remained stoic and silent. He and Allison knew the realities of their world; he couldn’t protest against Allison’s place in the pack and the risks that she would endure to keep the pack and the town safe. She was just a girl, but he had trained her as best as he could, and he would stand with her to his dying day. It was probably best not to say those things in front of the Sheriff and Melissa.

“Sheriff. Mrs. McCall. I understand your concerns. I no more than you want to send children out to battle. But, the truth of the matter is that Scott is the pack Alpha, despite his age, and that will not change. Not only that, he’s a True Alpha, and that alone will gain him a great deal of respect from other packs. They’ve held the Beacon Hills territory and an alliance with the Monroe pack will afford them a great deal of protection. The packs don’t care about age or gender, they care about Alpha status and character and strength and power. Scott has that; Stiles has it, too. They’re a good balance. I believe Monroe pack will accept them both, for as long as they don’t abuse it.” Deaton said, giving Scott and Stiles a serious look.

Scott and Stiles exchanged grins, Stiles nudging Scott’s side.

“I’ll begin training Stiles on the traditions of welcoming a potential ally pack into Beacon Hills,” Deaton said, reassuringly. “I promise that this will be a peaceful meeting; the Monroe pack would never dare cross into Beacon Hills territory with any hidden intentions to harm the pack or the people.”

“No one wants a pack war,” Derek said, looking at the Sheriff.

Chris cleared his throat. “For what it’s worth, in my past dealings with Monroe pack, I’ve never had to put down any of their pack members. They’ve always shown to be law abiding members of the community.”

“You’re just a fountain of cheerful news, aren’t you, Mr. Argent?” Stiles said, sardonically.

“Stiles!” Allison said, sharply. “Don’t talk to my dad like that.”

Stiles flinched and mouthed ‘sorry’ to her.

Chris ignored Stiles and looked at Deaton again. “You said that the Monroe pack had stipulations.”

“They have concerns of your presence as hunters,” Deaton told him, nodding.

“They’re not like that anymore!” Scott protested, stepping closer to Allison. “She’s earned her place in the pack.”

Chris grinned, pained. “He means me.”

Scott winced. “Oh. Sorry?”

“The Monroe pack is aware that Allison stands as Argent Matriarch. They are not concerned with her place in the McCall pack,” Deaton said, his voice neutral. He turned to look at Chris, meeting his eyes. “And while you have always followed the Argent Code, the Monroe pack is concerned with your past.”

Allison frowned, looking at him. “Dad…”

“It’s no secret that my role in the Argent family has always been its Enforcer,” Chris said, plainly. “There’s a lot of blood on my hands.”

The Sheriff sighed, shaking his head. “As an officer of the law, I don’t think I should be listening to this admission of murder.”

Chris gave him a sympathetic look, but he couldn’t afford anything more than that. Not in the world that existed around them. The Sheriff couldn’t afford to be so naïve, in Chris’s opinion; that it was better to prepare the teenagers so that they were ready to face what would be coming.

“There’s nothing to be done to change Mr. Argent’s reputation and legacy. But the alliance with Monroe pack would solidify Scott’s place in Beacon Hills. Monroe pack is well established and wealthy. They’re progressive and future thinking.”

“They have alliances with hunters,” Chris told them.

“Indeed. Both packs share a number of similarities, which make them ideal allies,” Deaton said, nodding. “They would be good for the future of McCall pack. When the pack members graduate from high school, move on with their lives, an alliance with the Monroe pack would help safeguard the Beacon Hills territory. As long as a member of the McCall pack continued to live in Beacon Hills, it will belong to the pack.”

“If my presence in Beacon Hills is going to create problems, I’ll leave.”

“No,” Allison said, fervently.

The others remained silent, not looking at Chris.

Chris chuckled at the lack of support. “Thank you, sweetheart, but I’m thinking of what’s best for the pack. This alliance would be good for Scott and we know it.”

“There’s got to be another way,” Scott said, his brow furrowing slightly. “No matter what happened, you’ve helped us, too. That makes you pack, too, Mr. Argent.”

Chris raised his eyebrow, keeping his surprise in check. To be honest, he wasn’t sure how he felt about being part of a werewolf pack.

“He could always marry into the pack,” Peter said, snidely. He looked at Melissa – earning a warning growl from Scott; then looked at Lydia – earning warning looks from everyone else in the room.

“Over my dead body,” Stiles said, staring at Peter with all seriousness.

Lydia raised her eyebrow and sneered at Peter. “Or we could just honor your mate-promise. For the good of pack, of course.”

Stiles looked at Peter for a long moment and then at Chris. “You know, Peter, that’s not a bad idea. Chris _should_ marry into the pack – he should marry you.”

Dead silence.

“That’s cold, Stilinski.”

“Don’t make decisions about my dad!”

“What the hell are you talking about, Stiles?”

“That’s the worst idea ever.”

“Who would want Peter for a stepfather?”

“Your dad couldn’t do worse, believe me.”

“Ugh, mom! Can we not?”

“Hey! Hey, hey, listen!” Stiles called, waving his arms around and looking at everyone. “No, hear me out. Listen. This decades-long war between the Hales and Argent, what better way to show that we’re all one big crazy family than to have Peter and Chris get werewolf-former hunter married? Chris’s crazy family – no offense, Allison – tried to kill off the Hales; who else but the Hales have the biggest grudge to hold, right? But if Peter and Chris get married, you know, bury the old hatchet, that’s like a sign of peace between them.”

Deaton nodded, thoughtfully. “Not only that, it would reassure the Monroe pack that Peter was…stable, after his past…misadventures.”

“Stable? Really? Misadventures? Are you kidding, Dr. D? You mean when he went nuts, killed his niece for power, bit Scott, attacked Lydia, and tried to kill the rest of us,” Stiles said, scoffing.

Stilinski stared at Peter. “What!”

Peter sighed. “I’ve told you that I’m much better now. I don’t deny that I was suffering from a number of traumatic occurrences at the time.”

Derek growled, lowly, snapping his teeth at Peter. “You killed my sister, Uncle Peter.”

“I also remember you slashing his throat to gain his Alpha powers.”

He turned his dark gaze on Chris. “And _your_ sister cut her in half and left her body in the woods.”

“Stiles set me on fire,” Peter added, unhelpfully, as Stiles threw him an utterly betrayed look.

“Asshole,” Stiles muttered under his breath.

The Sheriff threw his hands up in the air. “Do you all realize that I’m the Sheriff of this town? I should arrest all of you!”

“Okay, dad, let’s not do anything rash,” Stiles said, letting out a nervous laugh. “We’re just airing out the pack’s dirty laundry. All this happened before you knew, so…”

“California statute for first degree murder is still in play, Przemyslaw Genim Stilinski.”

 

Stiles winced, teeth clenched in a gruesome semblance of a smile. “Yeah, the full name, huh? You had to go there.”

“Your name is Przemyslaw?” Isaac said, face pinched holding back his laughter.

“Look, let’s focus on what’s important right now, and it’s being a good little pack so that Monroe pack will want to be our new friends. So let’s do this, you guys get married and pee on each other—“

“For heaven’s sake, Stiles!” Melissa said, warningly.

“—or whatever it is that you need to do to convince Monroe pack that you’re together,” Stiles said, looking over his shoulder at Scott for approval.

Scott looked at Chris and then at Peter, making a pained face at Stiles. “I don’t think that’s going to work, buddy, but good thinking out-of-the-box.”

Chris glared at the two boys.

“Sam and I used to be lovers—“

“TMI, dude!” Stiles protested, making a gagging noise.

“—how am I supposed to explain to him that after I woke up from my coma, I never bothered to contact him, and now I’m marrying an Argent instead?”

Stiles snorted. “You dug that grave, you figure it out.”

“Peter does have a point,” Deaton said, mildly. “It would be in truly bad form for Peter to marry someone else while mate-promised to another.”

“Well, how do we break a mate-promise?” Scott said, curiously.

“As the Hale Emissary, I would send a formal message to Alpha Monroe to break the mate-promise,” Deaton said, kindly. “But Peter and Chris can’t just get married. They would have to be engaged. Monroe pack would respect and accept an engagement between a werewolf and a human.”

“They won’t be able to fool a single werewolf that they were engaged and together,” Derek said, his tone somewhat bemused.

“This is a horrible idea and a stupid plan,” Peter drawled, turning to look at Chris.

Chris returned the look, his face emotionless.

Scott sighed, running his hand over his head. “It is a stupid plan, but if that’s what it takes, then we’ll all have to do our best to make it work. There’s too much at risk.”

“If the Monroe pack believes that McCall pack isn’t bonded and strong enough, they could easily kill everyone and take the territory themselves.”

“Hey, wait a minute! You said that they would be coming here for a peaceful meeting,” the Sheriff said, crossing his arms and glaring at Deaton. “You didn’t say anything about taking over the town.”

“It would be in the best interest of all werewolf packs to weed out the weak,” Deaton said, simply. “If the Alpha is too weak to handle the Betas and human members, then they have no right to handle the territory.”

“Survival of the fittest,” Stiles said, frowning. He put his hand on Scott’s shoulder. “We won’t let that happen here, buddy.”

Chris rolled his eyes and looked away. They were so goddamn naïve, it was painful.

“Mr. Argent, Peter…I regret that there isn’t a better way. Remember, it’s only temporary, for the good of the McCall pack and for Beacon Hills. Surely, you’re both able to do what’s necessary to protect the pack at all costs.”

Chris raised his eyebrow; Peter let out an irritated huff. Deaton was a manipulative son-of-a-bitch, too clever for his own good at times.

“Well, I guess that gives us something to think about,” Allison said, looking at Scott who smiled at her and nodded, effectively ending the pack meeting.

Chris met Allison’s gaze and nodded to her; they would talk about this at home in private.

***

**Derek’s Loft**

“You have to tell Peter to do it,” Stiles said, looking meaningfully at Derek.

Derek looked out through the long wall of windows and sighed. “I’m not going to force Peter to do anything.”

“Look, all I’m saying is that with all the hate and sarcastic mocking, they could, you know, use it as passion. There’s a fine line between love and hate, right?”

Derek gave him a look and shook his head. “No.”

“He’ll listen to you. You just have to get him on board, get him to cooperate.”

“Why do you care, aside from publicly humiliating Peter?”

“I don’t want to mess this up, all right? This is important to Scott – to the pack,” Stiles said, stubbornly. “I don’t want us to lose Beacon Hills. You heard what Deaton said. If Monroe pack doesn’t think we’re committed, they’ll try and take the town.”

He watched as Derek mulled that over.

“Peter has always done what was best for him,” Derek told him, softly.

Stiles stood next to Derek, leaning against the windows. “So what’s the real story behind Peter’s mate-promise to Sam Monroe? Why did he agree to it in the first place?”

“It was mom’s idea. Peter could’ve said no, but I think he liked Sam.”

“Just the idea that Peter liked someone other than himself…” Stiles made a face. “It’s kind of creeping me out to think about it.”

Derek gave him a sidelong glance. “He wasn’t always like this. Before Kate, before the fire, Peter was still kind of a jerk but he wasn’t…lost like the way that he is now.”

“I hate to say it but…maybe having Argent and Peter together isn’t such a bad idea,” Stiles said, thoughtfully. “They’re both lonely; and they’re able to hold their own with each other. I know it’s weird, but I feel like they could make it work.”

Derek chuckled, shaking his head. “This is such a horrible idea. If something goes wrong…they could end up destroying each other.”

Stiles sighed, his hand on Derek’s shoulder. “Yeah. Well, we won’t let that happen.”  

***

**Argent Penthouse**

“This is a horrible idea,” Allison said, sitting on the edge of Chris’s desk. “I can’t even begin to imagine seeing you with him. Ugh. Dad…”

“I remember all the Hales,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “Talia Hale was a beautiful woman; and I’d heard stories of her from other hunters. She was respected by the packs. I was so prejudiced against werewolves, I couldn’t appreciate her as a person.”

“That’s Grandpa talking,” she pointed out, kindly.

Chris gave her a small, regretful smile. “It wasn’t just Gerard. I was so angry when my best friend was bitten by a werewolf. I didn’t care if werewolves lived in peace with humans or not, they were all monsters and they would need to be put down at some point. It was just a matter of time before a werewolf bit a human and turned them or killed them.”

“Did you know him? Back then?”

She didn’t need to clarify who was the ‘him’ that she was referring to. Chris exhaled through his mouth and nodded slowly.

“The first time I came through Beacon Hills was before I met your mother,” he said, seeing the surprise on Allison’s face. “I had followed an Omega into Hale territory and I followed all the correct traditions to hunt in Beacon Hills. Talia gave her blessing and Peter was there, acting as her Enforcer. He would have to accompany me during my hunt to make sure that I wasn’t there to put down any Hale werewolves. Peter was…well, we were both much younger then. He was…pretty damn hilarious. I had a hard time keeping a straight face around him. He was always teasing me – taunting me. The Hales knew about the Argents and they were wary, but polite. Peter didn’t care, he flirted and teased me, not so different than now, except now, Peter does it because he hates me, hates us for what we did to his family.”

Allison frowned, looking at him. “Wow, I guess we really do have a long, complicated history with the Hales.”

“Even if we agree to do this, there’s no way that either of us will have any kind of emotional distance. We could end up killing each other, destroy the pack.”

They looked at each in quiet contemplation for a long moment.

“As Argent Matriarch, you could just order me to do it,” he said, giving her an opening. “I’d follow your command for the good of the pack.”

Allison made a horrified face. “Ohmygod, dad, no! I’m not going to order you to do that. That’s completely…it’s…ugh, just no! If you don’t want to do it, I’ll back you up no matter what. Even if we have to move out of Beacon Hills, if that’s what it takes so that Scott and the pack can have peace in the town…I’m not going to order you to do anything like that ever!”

Chris chuckled, standing up to pull her into his arms for a long hug. “I appreciate the thought, but we both know that sacrifices are necessary to protect a pack – a family. They’re your family.”

“It could be yours, too,” she said, softly. “I mean, Peter’s not exactly the best choice but…”

“It doesn’t have to mean anything,” he told her, running his hand over her soft hair. He kissed the top of her head and let her go. “I need to go out for a bit, kiddo. I’ll see you later?”

She cocked her head, her mouth opening as if to ask, but she smiled instead and nodded. “Okay, dad, I’ll have something for dinner ready.”

***

**Derek’s Loft**

“You must be fucking joking,” Peter said, astonishment clear in his tone.

“I wish I were,” Derek told him, sighing deeply. He leaned against the edge of the table by the windows, keeping his eyes on Peter. “Uncle Peter, I know this isn’t easy for you—“

Peter snorted, inelegantly. “I don’t need a pep talk from the likes of you, Derek. You’re not my Alpha.”

“I know you’ve always been ambitious, wanting a pack of your own,” he said, choosing his words carefully. Peter raised his eyebrow, but waited for Derek to continue. “But we don’t have anyone else but us. Cora’s in South America and we don’t have a Hale Alpha—“

“And who do we have to blame for that little oversight?” Peter snapped, his tone bitter and his eyes flashing blue for just a moment.

“I know that wasn’t the kind of Alpha you wanted to be.”

Peter took a deep breath. “Go on, Nephew.”

“The only choice we have is to ally with Scott or to leave Beacon Hills as Omegas,” Derek told him, frowning slightly. “This is our home; we’ve been here for generations. We may not be able to own the territory anymore, but we can still protect it, rebuild our legacy here. It’s what mom would’ve wanted.”

Peter huffed out of his nose and stood up from the battered blue couch to lean against the spiral staircase, tapping his fingers against the metal.

“Stiles did make a good point.”

Peter let out a low, dirty laugh. “I’m sure young Stilinski must be ecstatic at seeing me put in my place. So the pack believes that their best option is for me to get engaged to Christopher Argent and bend over and let him fuck me.”

Derek refused to be baited and gave Peter a long, steady look, his face impassive. “I know I was just a kid, but I remember the first time you came home smelling like Argent.”

Peter’s face fell into a tight grimace, his lips pressing together.

“How you always flirted with him; touched him, so that his scent lingered on you for hours. You can’t fool me, Uncle Peter.” Derek gave him a small smile. “I know that your mate-promise with Sam Monroe was more out of friendship than anything else. You liked each other; you came home smelling like him, too, but that was it. It wouldn’t have been a true mate-bond because I think you’d already bound yourself to Argent.”

Peter turned away from him, both hands curled into a tight fist. He was thrumming with energy – anger, frustration, no way to unleash his emotions the way that he really wanted to. He let out a roar and slammed his clawed hand against the exposed brick wall, crumbling a small portion to brick ash. Derek shrugged; he was thinking of renovating the space anyway and would need to knock down the entire section.

 _“Fucking Argents,”_ Peter growled, under his breath, turning away. “Our entire pack ruined, and burned to ash, because of the Argents.”

“We’re both guilty of that,” Derek said, simply.

Peter took a deep breath, crossing his arms. “Sam was a good friend; a good Alpha. But there wasn’t anything passionate between us. It was nothing more than a pre-emptive move that Talia and Alan cooked up to get me away from Argent.” Peter glanced at Derek. “You weren’t the only one who noticed my _interest_ in Chris.”

Derek sighed and shook his head. “I didn’t do any better.”

“I suppose our common weakness for the Argents runs in our blood,” Peter said, wryly. “First me, then you, and my own Beta-turned-True Alpha. Will Allison Argent end up being Scott’s destruction as well, I wonder?”

Derek smiled. “Probably. Though I doubt Scott will have the same kind of regrets that we do.”

“Only time will tell,” Peter murmured, thoughtfully.

“So will you at least talk to Argent about this?”

Peter raised his eyebrow and smirked. “I’m sure that Argent and I will have some words for each other.” He sighed and laughed. “But I won’t make any promises, Nephew.”


	2. PART II: NEW BEGINNINGS

**PART II: NEW BEGINNINGS**

 

**Old Hale House**

Chris walked through the Preserves, near the old Hale House, knowing that he’d find Peter there sooner or later. It was getting colder in the evenings and he shoved his hands into his coat pockets, keeping them warm and flexible. He felt terribly naked without his weapons, but he didn’t think that being armed would send the right kind of message. He was sure that Peter wouldn’t outright attack or kill him – there was nothing for Peter to gain for doing that now – but the werewolf was unpredictable and known for holding a grudge.

There was a small chance that Chris would be able to draw Peter out with his show of vulnerability. Unarmed Hunter without backup on werewolf territory, he was showing his back and his belly to a natural predator. Every Hunter instinct railed at him to go back to his truck and to hide a knife on his person. Chris wasn’t weak and he could hold his own in close-quarters-combat, use his tactical mind and every dirty trick he knew, but he’d never have the stamina or the endurance of a werewolf. For this to work, he would allow Peter to have the advantage.

He stood in the clearing and closed his eyes, letting his other senses take over. The Preserves was dense and dark, a thick roof of trees above him, with only the moonlight offering Chris a little visibility. His eyesight was very good in the dark, years of experience in hunting and tracking in the dark affording him with the ability to adjust to the environment of his prey. He inhaled deeply, taking in the scents of the woods – the clean smell of moss overlaid with the fragrant spice of deciduous trees, leaves scattering on the ground – he remembered the first time he came through the Preserves, the terrain unfamiliar and rough. Now, Chris could find his way through these woods, knew the fastest paths to the old Hale House, the Preserve public parking lot, the cliffs overlooking the town, and the lake at the center of the woods.

“You shouldn’t be wandering around the woods at night, Christopher, who knows what kind of monster is waiting for you out here.”

Chris opened his eyes and pulled his hands from his pockets, showing that he wasn’t armed. He turned around, trying to locate the source of Peter’s voice. He heard the sound of leaves fluttering behind him and he turned, sharp eyes seeing a fast shadow move around him.

“I thought we outgrew this game, Peter,” he called, looking at the movement of the low branches, tracking Peter’s path.

“Some instincts are hard to ignore,” Peter said, standing just a few feet away from him. “You bring it out in me.”

Chris looked over the werewolf, narrowing his eyes at the slightly tousled, wavy hair, the casual way that Peter held himself, the half smirk curving his lips. He looked human and unassuming in his dark blue pea coat buttoned up, a gray scarf around his neck, hands hidden in the front pockets. Chris knew not to be fooled by any of it, though. Peter was a master of deception and emotional sleight of hand.

Peter grinned at him, shrugging his shoulders. “You do realize that we’re never going to pull this off. It’s going to require…” He licked his lips, blue eyes flicking up and down Chris’s body. “… _intimacy_  between us.”

“I know,” he said, nonchalantly.

“And you’re so willing to lay it all out for the good of the pack?” Peter said, taking a step closer, but still keeping a safe distance from Chris. “Who knew that Christopher Argent would taint himself with the scent of a werewolf?”

Chris sighed, keeping his eyes on Peter. “It wouldn’t be my first time.”

“ _Ahhh_ …” Peter murmured, cocking his head and gazing at him. He chuckled low and soft, sounding more like a purr than a laugh. “You have fond memories of the past then; a secret werewolf lover?”

“It was a long time ago,” he said, looking at Peter. “You were the last person I was with before Victoria.”

Chris could see that Peter was surprised by his admission; and he hadn’t meant to be so open and vulnerable with the werewolf. He wasn’t immune to Peter Hale’s charms back before the fire, before his coma, before his mad rampage through town. That Peter was young and charming and sensual; Chris was drawn to him, lured in by Peter’s cleverness and cheerful disregard of the fact that Chris was an Argent Hunter. The werewolf seduced Chris and used his own curiosity against his better sense, showed him the pleasure of having a lover who Chris couldn’t physically dominate.

“There’s nothing I can ever do to bring back your pack, Peter,” he said, softly. “But I’ll do everything that I can to make sure that you still have a pack in Beacon Hills.”

Peter stared at him for a long moment, his silent regard starting to make Chris uncomfortable. But he waited patiently for Peter to make his next move, bracing himself for sharp words or clear rejection. He and Allison would need a backup plan if Peter decided to tell Chris to fuck off. He watched as Peter narrowed his eyes and cocked his head as if he was listening to something in the distance; he realized that Peter was listening to Chris’s heartbeat, which was steady and strong.

“Such a generous offer,” Peter drawled, lips curling into a small smile. He stepped even closer to Chris, just a few inches between them. Chris didn’t flinch or move away; he wouldn’t give Peter the satisfaction of seeing him retreat. “In order to pull this off, you and your daughter will need to be scent marked as mine.”

Chris clenched his teeth, nodding. “Within very strict boundaries. You’re not allowed to touch Allison without her permission and _always_  in my presence.”

“How kinky,” Peter drawled, rolling his eyes. “I’m not going to harm her in any way.” He grinned, meeting Chris’s eyes. “Tell me, will you be in her presence when I scent mark you?”

“Don’t push your luck,” he said, narrowing his eyes. “You’ll have to move into the Penthouse.”

Peter laughed, delightedly. “Oh, a den, how lovely. Will I get to share your bed, Christopher?”

Chris leaned in close; he could smell Peter’s cologne. “You get the guest room. Don’t cross the line with me, Peter. I’m only doing this to help the pack, but my patience only goes so far. Just remember what I’ll do to you after the Monroe pack leaves the area.”

Peter’s eyes glittered with amusement and desire. “I can’t wait.”

***

**Argent Penthouse**

Chris was in the kitchen preparing dinner when the doorbell rang. He and Allison exchanged looks and she nodded, getting to her feet and going to the door.

“Peter,” she said, her voice low and tense.

“Good evening, Allison,” Peter said, standing in the hallway with a small smile on his lips. “May I come in?”

Chris bit back his wariness at having a werewolf at their door, inside their home, and stepped into the living room, wiping his hands on a kitchen towel. “Let him in, Allison.”

She hesitated and then opened the door wider, waving her hand for Peter to step inside. No doubt her own hackles were rising, inviting Peter Hale into their home. The Argent Penthouse was their safe house, and to open their home to a werewolf of Peter’s history…no Hunter in their right minds would open themselves up to such a predator.

But here they were, doing just that.

He watched as Peter walked in carrying a small suitcase and a backpack, the werewolf looking around the Argent Penthouse with bright, curious blue eyes. He watched as Peter looked at the furnishings, the artwork and family pictures on the walls, the bookcases filled with books and collectibles, all the personal knick-knacks that he and Allison kept to make a new home after selling the house. The house had become too much of a mausoleum after Victoria’s death and the nasty business with Gerard and Kate. Chris and Allison both wanted a new start and the Penthouse was their sanctuary.

Peter looked his fill and smiled at Allison. “You have a lovely home.”

Chris wanted to say ‘ _don’t get too comfortable_ ’ but there was no reason to make an ass of himself yet.

“I’ll show you the guest room,” Allison said, leading Peter into the hallway to the first room on the left. “Your room has its own bathroom. I made sure to stock it with stuff, but don’t expect us to clean up after you.”

“I assure you that my presence here won’t inconvenience you or your father,” Peter said, smartly. “Thank you for allowing me to stay here.”

“Get unpacked and settled in, I guess, dad’s making steaks for dinner. How do you like your steak?”

Peter grinned. “Rare.”

Chris rolled his eyes. Of course it would be rare. He moved back into the kitchen to look after his cooking, knowing that Allison could handle Peter.

“Dad and I only have a few rules – stay out of my room, his office, and his bedroom,” she told him, sternly.

“Of course,” Peter replied, softly.

Chris heard the door close and Allison walking down the hallway to the kitchen. “He settled in?”

“Yeah,” she said, taking a deep breath. “This is going to be so weird, dad. Are you sure you want to do this?”

Of course he didn’t want to do this.

He turned and stared at his daughter. “If he steps out of line for any reason, tell me.”

“Dad, I’m pretty sure that I can handle Peter Hale,” she said, shaking his head. “I’m not worried about him stepping out of line with me.”

Chris gave her a long look and then let out an amused huff. “I can take care of myself, sweetheart.”

Peter strolled into the kitchen, smile on his face. He looked relaxed in his blue V-neck sweater and dark jeans. “So, what can I do?”

“You can do the dishes after. The dishwashers broken so you’ll have to do it by hand,” Allison told him, smiling meanly. She moved to the counter and turned on the iPod, soft jazz music filling the room and dispelling the awkwardness of their company.

“The dishwasher’s not broken,” Chris said, chuckling.

“I wouldn’t have minded regardless. I grew up in a large family in a house in the woods. We didn’t have a dishwasher growing up and that was one of my chores,” he said, grinning slightly. “Talia hated doing the dishes, so we always traded when it was her turn. Believe it or not, I’m quite handy around the house.”

Chris didn’t know what to say to that, so he kept his silence.

Peter wandered closer to Chris, looking over his shoulder at the three thick steaks grilling on the gas stove, the overhead vent turned on low to pull up the smoke. “It smells delicious, Christopher.”

Chris turned to see Peter standing too close and elbowed him in the chest to push him back. He’d forgotten that Peter didn’t have a sense of normal personal space; and although Chris knew that Peter would have to scent him, he wasn’t quite able yet to allow him to breach his personal bubble.

“I’ll take yours off in just a second to let it rest,” he said, seeing that Peter had stepped back a few feet and was now leaning against the edge of the counter. “You can help Allison get the salad and the side dishes ready.”

“Of course,” he said, smoothly, wandering out into the dining room.

Chris smirked to himself, knowing that Allison would probably find Peter’s presence an annoyance, but would be too polite to take it out on him. He turned to see Peter trying to be helpful, dishing out salad into the salad bowl as Allison poured water into their glasses. It was so achingly domestic and Chris felt a sharp pang of loss, missing Victoria in these moments. Chris would cook and Victoria would hug him from behind, teasing hands drifting down to caress the front of his pants, while Allison set the table as she ignored their obvious flirting. He was never hesitant to show his love and affection to his favorite girls; to be passionate and adventurous with his wife.   

He pushed the memories of Victoria from his mind, putting her back into the special place he reserved for her, only allowing himself to revisit the memories in the privacy of his bedroom, late at night, when Allison wouldn’t hear him crying softly. He couldn’t think about her while Peter was in his home. To be fair, Chris didn’t know who he was betraying more – the memory of his wife or the memory of his first lover.

“You’re going to overcook the meat,” Peter called, plainly.

_Damn werewolf sense of smell._

Chris turned off the stove and pulled off the two steaks, setting them on the thick woodblock, letting them rest. He washed his hands and dried them on the towel, hanging it neatly on the oven handle. He had three plates lined up along the counter, each already garnished.

A few minutes later, the three of them sat down to dinner, and it was awkward and silent. He and Allison both watched Peter as he delicately cut into his steak, holding the sharp steak knife gently in his hand. He chewed slowly, obviously enjoying the cut, and glancing innocently between Allison and Chris.

“The steak is very good, Christopher,” he murmured, taking a sip of his water. “My compliments to the chef.”

Chris nodded, warily, keeping his eyes on Peter’s hand. It would be so easy for Peter to take the knife in his hand and slash their throats before either one of them could react or defend themselves. No matter how many times Chris interacted with the werewolves of McCall pack, he was still unnerved by how close they came to him. Peter must’ve picked up on their wariness; he grinned slyly and took a deep breath, leaning back in his chair.

“I promise that I would never ruin a fine meal with undue bloodshed,” Peter said, humorously.

Allison sighed and rolled her eyes. “Dad, can I spend the night with Lydia tonight?”

“Is her mother okay with it?”

“Of course, Lydia’s mom loves me.”

“Did you finish your homework?”

“Yes.”

He sighed, nodding his consent, not having a reason to refuse her request. He didn’t want to be left alone in the Penthouse with Peter, but he was glad that Allison wouldn’t have to stay the night.

“Thanks,” she said, giving him a small, apologetic smile, flicking her brown eyes at Peter.

Peter was either ignoring their side looks or oblivious to them, Chris honestly couldn’t tell. He ate slowly, quietly, and made no attempt to start a conversation with either of them. Allison hurried through the rest of her dinner, cleared her plates, and gave Chris a hug before hurrying out of the dining room. A few minutes later, they heard her call out “bye” and the door open and close.

“And now it’s just us,” Peter murmured, grinning at Chris. “What are we going to do for the rest of our evening?”

“I don’t know about you but I have work to do,” he said, staring at Peter.

“I’m sure I’ll find something to amuse myself then.”

***

It was near midnight when Chris left his office and walked into the hallway. The door to the guest room was opened and Chris stopped to see that the bedside table light was on and Peter was sitting on the bed, leaning against the headboard, reading a book. He was dressed in a loose V-neck tee-shirt and pajama pants; but it was seeing his naked feet that made Chris feel like he was intruding in Peter’s space.

“You’re up late,” he said, softly.

Peter grinned, showing his even teeth. He marked his place in the book. “I’m a nocturnal creature.”

Chris had spent hours sitting at his desk in his office, his head in his hands, trying to figure out how he was going to handle his fake engagement with Peter. And as fake as it was, they would still have to go through with the physical and scent-related markings of intimacy in order for the Monroe pack to believe that they were together.

“Look, Peter, we might as well get the scent-marking started,” he said, looking at the other man.

“Oh, do tell, I’m up for anything.”

“Knock it off, I just need a shirt to wear that has your scent,” Chris told him, sharply. He wasn’t in the mood to deal with Peter’s inappropriate flirting or innuendo, not when he was feeling raw and slashed open.

He watched as Peter placed the book on the bed, standing slowly. He reached up and grabbed the back of his shirt, pulling it off slowly. Peter shook the shirt, flipping it so that it was right-side in, and held it out to Chris with a small, satisfied smile on his lips.

Chris didn’t take it right away. He looked at the lithe frame of the werewolf, his arms and shoulders and abs cut with the outline of muscles, no body fat on him. The last time Chris saw Peter like this, he was nineteen and slender, he hadn’t put on the muscle or weight or strength of a fully grown werewolf.

The werewolf smirked, raising his eyebrow at the way Chris was looking him over.

“I believe I’m providing a scent-marked shirt,” Peter said, his voice sultry and amused.

He snatched it out of Peter’s grip, the cotton soft and thin from multiple washings, and warm from Peter’s body heat. It felt like it was scorching Chris’s hand and he gripped the shirt tight in his fist.

“Good night,” Chris said, reaching for the doorknob to close the door between them.

“Pleasant dreams,” Peter called, from the other side, soft laughter following Chris into the hallway to his bedroom.

He walked into his room and closed the door; locking it with an afterthought. Peter could break through the lock if he wanted to, but it made Chris feel better to believe that it would keep his new house guest out, based on moral conscientiousness than a physical lock.

With a heavy sigh, he stared at Peter’s shirt in his hand and tossed it on his bed. He stripped out of his clothes and then picked up the shirt, tugging it on quickly. He could smell Peter’s cologne and body wash and musk on the cotton. He felt the hairs on his arms and on the back of his neck rise and he shivered. Shaking it off, he grabbed his pajama bottoms and tugged them on, climbing under the covers.

Chris closed his eyes and took a deep breath, regretting it when he got a whiff of Peter’s mixed scents. He let out a disgruntled sound and turned on his side, shoving his face into his pillow. It was going to be a long few weeks.


	3. PART III: BUT SOME THINGS STAY THE SAME

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sexytimes. *drops mic* Mwahaha...

**PART III: But Some Things Stay the Same**

 

**MacGregor’s Hardware Store**

Chris walked through the plumbing section, looking for the pieces that he needed to fix Allison’s shower. The shower faucet was dripping – thanks for Peter’s enhanced hearing and _numerous_  mentions littered throughout random comments – and Chris was going to take the time to fix it.

“Mr. Argent.”

He smiled at Sheriff Stilinski. The older man wasn’t wearing his uniform, but dressed in casual clothes, a brown work jacket over his flannel shirt. He shook the other man’s hand. “It’s Chris.”

“John, since I’m off duty,” the Sheriff said, raising his eyebrow. “I heard that Hale moved into your place. Things going okay?”

“Believe it or not, he’s being a tolerable house guest,” he said, humorously. “Allison reports that Stiles is really picking it up.”

John gave him a wry grin. “The kid is liable to start a war, but he’s working really hard to do everything right. Hasn’t been giving Dr. Deaton any trouble; and Scott and Melissa seem to be happy with Stiles’s progress.”

Chris nodded. “He’s more than capable of handling himself in pack business.”

“Yeah, the kid’s got a good heart; I’m still not sure about all this. How can you be so calm about everything?”

“I was born into it,” he said, softly. “Same as every other Argent; generations of us, going as far back to our roots to 17th century France. I guess I’ve never known any other kind of life.”

“And Allison?”

“I never wanted her to be part of this,” he said, honestly. “I wanted her to grow up, have a normal life, and never know her family’s brutal legacy. But Allison is an Argent and she made the choice, not me; and I’ve prepared her as best as I could.”

John sighed, running his hand over his head. “I guess all those stories about the supernatural and things that go bump in the night are true.”

“All myths and legends have a basis in the truth.”

“Werewolves,” the Sheriff said, blowing out a breath and chuckling to himself. “Man, who would’ve thought…”

“It’s a major reality check; that’s why there are people like me – Hunters – who can hold the line, keep it secret, protect the public from finding out.”

John gave him a long look and let out a sigh. “Yeah. We’re not ready to find out – hell, I’m still not ready, to tell the truth.”

Chris chuckled, friendly and warm, looking at the wide-eyed look on the Sheriff’s face. “No, I don’t suppose any of us are really ready for the truth.”

“So what about the Monroe pack? Am I going to expect trouble?”

Chris sighed and shook his head. “I’ve had a lot of experience with werewolf packs, some are better than others, and Monroe pack has a trusted record.”

“There’s always the first time,” John said, meeting Chris’s eyes.

“Are you planning to have your Deputies get involved?”

The Sheriff sighed, nodding. “Without telling them all the details, I’ve rearranged their shifts and stations, so that they’re in a good position to help if something goes sideways.”

“That’s a good plan,” he said, thoughtfully. “If you’ll allow it, my own security teams can assist. They’re discreet and they follow the new Argent Code.”

“Code?”

“Our family code of honor. Up until recently, our family motto was ‘ _Nous chassons ceux qui nous chassent_.’ We hunt those who hunt us. Unfortunately, not everyone in the family followed the Code. When Allison took her place as Argent Matriarch, she changed the Code to ‘ _Nous protégeons ceux qui ne peuvent pas se protéger eux-mêmes._ ’ We protect those who can’t protect themselves. Allison and I vetted all the people who work for our family, whether it’s the business or hunting.”

John gave him a long, thoughtful look. “You and I need to get a beer one night and I need you to tell me everything I don’t know.”

“It’s a good idea,” he said, agreeably. “After the pack alliance.”

“Let me get back to you about using your security teams after I brief my Deputies,” the Sheriff said, waving his hand and walking down the aisle.

“Of course, John,” Chris said, nodding.

***

**Argent Penthouse**

Chris returned from the hardware store to find Peter lounging on the couch in the living room, his MacBook on his lap, a thoughtful look on his face. He found it extremely unsettling to see the werewolf being so comfortable in Chris’s home. The past few mornings, he woke up to find Peter making Allison breakfast, the two of them sitting on stools at the island, sharing food in what looked like comfortable silence.

_“Let’s get this over with,” Allison said, getting to her feet and looking expectantly up at Peter._

_“Keep your hands where I can see them,” Chris said, standing nearby as Peter carefully hugged Allison, rubbing his cheek against her hair. “Okay, that’s enough.”_

_Allison gave him a peevish grin, letting out a dramatic shudder and picking up her bag, leaving for school._

_“Thanks for breakfast, Peter.”_

_“It was my pleasure,” Peter called, clearing the plates from the island. He grinned at Chris. “What would you like?”_

_“Nothing,” he said, frowning. “I’ll eat on the way to the warehouse.”_

_“Suit yourself,” Peter called, his voice tinged with amusement._

Peter looked up when Chris walked into the living room. “Successful recon of the hardware store?”

“What is it that you do all day?”

The werewolf blinked at him and then offered a small smile. “I’m an independent commodities broker, otherwise known as an Introducing Broker. I manage sixteen client accounts.”

Chris stared at him. “What?”

“Of course, I had to retake my Series 3 exam to update my broker’s license and hunt down my former clients to woo them away from their current brokers, who took over my accounts while I was in a coma, but I’m building up my business again.”

He shook his head and made a confused face. “I don’t know what to say.”

“How’s your portfolio, Christopher?”

“My portfolio is fine.”

“ _Hmmm_ …my return last quarter was in excess of $12 million,” he said, a proud smirk on his lips.

“I’m going to fix Allison’s shower.”

Chris spent the next two hours tinkering on the shower faucet, replacing washers, tightening bolts, and wondering if he needed to cut a hole in the tile to check the actual pipes. He opened the taps to test the water pressure when the water from the shower head sprayed him in the face.

“Oh fuck!” He shouted, turning the handle to stop the shower spray. He turned off the water taps and stood in the bathtub dripping wet, soaked through his shirt and jeans.

With a sigh, he stripped out of his tee-shirt and started unbuckling his jeans, pushing the wet denim down his legs. He bent over, pulling them off his feet one by one, and stood up to see Peter holding out a fluffy pink towel, a small smirk on his face.

Chris took the towel and started to dry off, staring at Peter watching him with open desire. “Enjoying the show?”

“Yes.” Peter trailed his eyes up Chris’s body, meeting Chris’s annoyed gaze head on. “You’re a very handsome man, Christopher.”

He didn’t actually blush, but he felt naked under Peter’s steady gaze. “Gee, thanks.”

“The Monroe pack arrives in four days. Alan and I have been training Stiles on the proper forms and traditions. He’s doing quite well,” Peter said, crossing his arms and leaning against the bathroom doorway, smiling. “Alan told me that Sam received and accepted the break to the mate-promise.”

Chris wrapped the towel around his waist, covering up his damp boxers. “Good.”

“I’ve been telling Scott what I know of Sam and Monroe pack, his strengths and weaknesses. Sam will be bringing three pack representatives with him – his Emissary, his First Beta, and a human pack member.”

Chris looked up at him in surprise. “A human member? Why would he risk putting a human member in harm’s way?”

“Because the human member will be someone the pack believes is their most valuable pack member, someone that the pack will protect with their lives.”

“Someone that the pack will go to war for in retribution if anything happened to them,” he said, frowning.

“So we’re all motivated to have a peaceful meeting,” Peter said, raising his eyebrows. “No one wants a pack war; and McCall pack would never survive an attack from the Monroes.”

“Their safety is paramount.”

Peter chuckled. “To say the least.”

“I talked to Sheriff Stilinski. He’s going to put some of his Deputies in strategic locations to watch everyone’s backs; and I offered my security teams to assist as well.”

“If there ever was a time to start a pack war, the Argents would have their first strike,” Peter said, narrowing his eyes.

“My security teams are vetted, they’re loyal to Allison.”

Peter stepped closer, lifting his chin to meet Chris’s eyes. “Loyal to a 17-year old girl who stands as Matriarch and consorts with a werewolf.”

“Why not? You’re loyal to a 17-year old True Alpha who is as untested as they come,” he retorted, staring at Peter.

Chris made to move past Peter, but inhaled sharply when Peter moved with him, blocking his way out of the bathroom.

“What the hell are you doing?” He gritted out, feeling the hairs on the back of his neck stand, goosebumps slipping down his arms and back.

“I think we need to work on proper scenting,” Peter said, leaning forward to drag the tip of his nose along Chris’s throat. “You smell so good. You always have, Christopher. I can smell my scent on your skin, but hardly enough for the kind of intimacy that’ll be expected of us.”

Peter pushed Chris against the edge of the sink and Chris swallowed, staring at Peter, slightly startled. He curled his hands into fists, ready to defend himself if Peter attacked him, and shivered when he felt soft fingertips tracing across his clavicles and down his chest.

“Peter, you—“

“ _Shhh_ , Christopher, I’m not going to hurt you,” Peter murmured, eyes giving him frank appraisal, slow smile curving his lips. “We don’t have much time left. Sam and the others will know that we’re not engaged. My scent has to seep in deep, give it time to hold.”

“What do you want?”

Peter licked his lips and looked at Chris. “I think we need to come on each other.”

Chris rolled his eyes.

“Sex is better, but I don’t think you’re ready for that yet,” Peter said, mocking him.

“Fine, just do it,” Chris said, pulling off the towel and tossing it on the floor. He reached for his boxers and tugged the elastic waist to under his balls, hand curling around his semi-hard cock. He stroked himself, his hand too dry, the friction pulling unsatisfactorily on his sensitive skin.

Peter stepped back and watched Chris; watched him perform, his hands slipping down to the button of his jeans, tugging it free. He unzipped himself slowly and moved his tight jeans down over his hips. He wore dark brief underneath and Chris could see the hard line of his cock under the cotton. Peter grinned, his fingers caressing his cock, and then he pulled off his V-neck sweater, dropping it in the hallway floor.

Chris frowned, looking away from Peter, stroking his cock just under the head. He wanted this to happen fast, get it over with.

Peter stepped closer to Chris, crowding him in against the sink counter.

“Back off,” he hissed, glaring at Peter.

“No,” Peter said, grabbing the back of Chris’s neck and pulling him into a kiss, hard and deep, all teeth and tongue and warm spit.

Chris pushed him back; Peter growled, eyes flashing blue, and he grabbed Chris’s wrists, pinning them behind his back. Chris lurched in his hold, trying to pull his hands out of Peter’s supernatural strength. He struggled against Peter, the friction of warm cotton against his cock making him completely hard now.

“Get off me.”

“Not yet,” Peter said, smiling. “Hold still, Christopher, and I’ll make this good for both of us.”

“You fucking bastard,” he said, panting, falling against the counter edge, staring at Peter. It was no use struggling, Peter had a strong hold on his wrists, and Chris wasn’t going to dislocate his shoulder trying to get free. “Just do it.”

Peter stared at him, his eyes slit with want, and he put both of Chris’s wrists in one hand, pinned to the small of Chris’s back. The other hand slid across Chris’s hip, blunt human nails scratching him erotically. He felt his belly shiver and Chris looked away, staring past Peter’s shoulder to the far wall.

He heard Peter spit into his free hand, curling it around both of their cocks, stroking slowly.

Chris clenched his teeth, breathing heavily through his nose, his thighs trembling from the smooth, wet warmth caressing his cock.

“When this is over, after the Monroe pack leaves, we will never speak of this.”

Peter growled low in his throat and kissed him again, biting his bottom lip and slipping his tongue into Chris’s mouth. Chris kept his moans under tight control, giving over only the sound of his soft pants and the twitch of his cock in Peter’s strong grip.

“You feel so good,” Peter whispered, licking Chris’s neck and daring to suck a mark on is throat, high enough where Chris wouldn’t be able to hide it.

“Fucker,” Chris hissed, trying to move away from the pressure of Peter’s mouth.

“Next time, I’ll leave a bite mark instead,” Peter murmured, chuckling. He inhaled deeply and grinned, meeting Chris’s eyes. “You’re ready to come, aren’t you, Christopher?”

“Just get it over with, Peter!”

“I can smell you; you can’t hide from me.”

“It’s just sex, it doesn’t mean anything.”

Peter grinned, licking Chris’s chin, his hand moving expertly and quickly, grip tight, knowing just how Chris liked it.

“Come on, Chris,” Peter urged, groaning softly and closing his eyes. “Come on me, baby.”

“Shit,” Chris muttered, feeling his balls tighten, his cock spurting come against Peter’s fingers. He dropped his head back, letting the pleasure infuse him, his body flushed against Peter’s heat.

Peter groaned against Chris’s throat, and Chris felt the werewolf come against him, felt his cock twitch against Chris’s cock, Peter’s grip too firm to pull away. He felt a little disgusted, a little ashamed, and he couldn’t meet Peter’s knowing gaze.

“Are we done?” Chris said, keeping his voice steady, forcing himself to look at Peter.

He made a face as Peter rubbed their come on him, spreading it against his skin, warm and sticky. Peter slowly let Chris’s wrists free, stepping back and staring at Chris while licking his fingers.

“Yes, we’re done,” Peter told him, smirking. “For now.”

Chris pulled his boxers over his cock and pushed past him to hurry to his bedroom. He was going to need to take a shower.

***

**Argent Arms International Warehouse**

Chris spoke with his three security team leaders, putting their plans together. The Monroe pack would be arriving in two days; they were as ready as they were going to be. Peter wasn’t surprised that Stiles had perfected all the greetings, Scott and Melissa would host all the pack dinners at their house with all pack members helping with the groceries and cooking. Everyone would attend the pack dinners, except for those who had to work evening shifts, such as Melissa and the Sheriff. Chris had no doubt that they would change their work schedules to be at the pack dinners. The Monroe pack would stay for seven days. Stiles and the Sheriff offered their home for the Monroe pack – who would have the balls to attack the Sheriff’s home – but Alan reported back at while the Monroe’s were grateful for their hospitality, they would be staying at the nearby Sheraton.

Peter and Derek would host a hunt night in the Preserves, the werewolves of both packs hunting together. It would show the hunting skills of the McCall pack, and bonding over a shared kill would bring the two packs closer.

Two of Chris’s security teams would patrol the Preserves while the Sheriff’s Deputies would be stationed in town. His third security team would act as shadows, perimeter guards, and act as the Monroe’s escorts if they wanted to go into town.

“Scott, Isaac, and I will patrol the Preserves,” Allison said, checking the map of the wood. “We’ll take the north and west.”

“Peter and I can patrol the south and east,” Derek offered, looking to Scott, who smiled winningly at Derek and nodded his thanks.

“Deaton and Stiles are monitoring for any supernatural activity,” Scott said, looking at Chris. “The Telluric lay lines are quiet for now, we just hope that the peace will hold.”

“Don’t let down your guards,” Chris advised, nodding at them. “Every time we do, that’s when things go to Hell.”

“All right, who’s up for pizza?” Scott said, looking at all of them with friendly regard.

Allison and Isaac agreed quickly, with Allison inviting the security team members to join them. Chris watched as the men followed the teenagers out of the warehouse. It would be good for Allison to show her leadership without being a bossy, entitled teenager.

She turned and shared a special smile with Isaac, the lanky, shy werewolf returning it, his face breaking with happiness.

Chris narrowed his eyes, wondering at her relationship with both boys. He suspected that she was dating Isaac, though she hadn’t told him yet; and Scott still looked at her with devotion in his eyes. Chris wasn’t stupid; he was trained to observe and evaluate. Scott may be looking at Allison with love, but he was also looking at Isaac with the same kind of fondness.

Derek sniffed Chris indelicately and Chris frowned, turning to look at the younger man. "What the fuck are you doing, Derek?”

“I was just…checking.”

Peter laughed, crossing the room towards them. “You’ll have to excuse him, Christopher. My Nephew doesn’t think I’ve been properly scent marking my future mate and my future mate’s daughter.”

Derek flinched, but met Chris’s eyes steadfastly. “I’m a born werewolf, like Sam Monroe; I’d know if Peter’s scent didn’t hold on you.”

“And has it?” Chris said, keeping his face neutral.

“Not yet,” Derek said, plainly, giving Peter a sidelong glance.

“Don’t fret, Derek,” Peter said, turning to look at Chris. “I’ll take care of everything.”

***

**Parking Garage**

Chris maneuvered his truck into his parking space in the underground garage. Peter unbuckled his seatbelt and reached for Chris’s arm, holding him in place before he could open the door.

“What?”

Peter slid across the space between the two front chairs and kissed Chris, his hand curled around the front of his throat, holding him still.

“Peter, what’re you—“

“For such a stoic man, you really do talk too much,” he said, chuckling against Chris’s mouth. His hand dropped off his throat, palm sliding down the front of his chest, fingers turning down to palm his cock and squeezing knowingly.

Chris lurched in his seat and Peter unclipped his seatbelt.

“Move your seat back.”

“Seriously? You want to do this here?” Chris said, staring at him. “We’re not teenagers anymore.”

Peter snickered, reaching across Chris to the left side of his seat. He found the lever and moved Chris’s seat all the way back until it stopped. “Open your pants for me.”

Chris sighed, leaning back and undoing his belt, then the button to his jeans, and pulling down the zipper. Peter pressed his face against the front of his boxers and sniffed him. Chris flushed, embarrassed, and he looked around the parking garage to see if anyone was watching.

“There’s no one around,” Peter said, licking at his cock over the thin cotton. “I’ll hear if someone comes anywhere close to us.”

“Jesus,” Chris muttered, his hands holding onto the steering wheel. He felt his cock twitch against Peter’s tongue, the wet heat driving him crazy.

He watched as Peter slipped his hand between his legs, pressing against his balls. Chris closed his eyes and groaned deeply, his head pressing against the headrest. His arched his hips into Peter’s touch, his legs parting involuntarily, as Peter kept up his slow, firm licks and squeezing his balls in a slow rhythm.

“You like this,” Peter murmured, wrapping his mouth over the head and just breathing hotly against him.

Chris dropped one hand into the thick softness of Peter’s hair and fisted a handful, pushing his face closer against his groin. “Fucking do it.”

“When was the last time someone sucked you off in your car, Christopher?”

He wasn’t going to dignify that with an answer. Instead, he reached down with his other hand and tugged down the waistband of his boxers, his hard cock springing free. “Put your damn mouth on me.”

Peter gave a lazy grin, looking up at him. “Be polite. Say please.”

Chris stared at him and tried to push his mouth against his cock, but Peter’s strength was greater than his and he didn’t budge. Instead, blue eyes gazed at him as he kept his mouth open, close but not close enough, the warmth of his breath tantalizing against Chris’s wet cockhead.

“Please,” he said, reluctantly.

Peter chuckled, licking the head. Chris hissed and tightened his hold on Peter’s hair.

“Goddamn it, Peter, you always were a fucking tease.”

“I’m so glad you remembered,” he murmured, looking up at Chris as he took the head into his hot mouth. Peter closed his eyes and moaned, like he was savoring Chris’s taste.

He looked down to see the head of his cock pressing against the soft flesh of his cheek, Peter’s blue eyes looking up at him. Even with a cock in his mouth, the smug bastard was smirking. Chris licked his lips and panted, trying to tug Peter’s mouth further down on his cock.

“Please,” he whispered, leaning back on his seat. “Fuck, Peter, please.”

That was what Peter wanted to hear, to have Chris beg for it. He turned his head and sank down along Chris’s length, clever tongue teasing along the shaft, mouth a hot, wet suction as he moved up to the tip. Chris moaned, rubbing his hand through Peter’s hair, nearly petting him.

Peter’s hand curled around his balls and caressed him gently. Chris shuddered, moaning raggedly as pleasure shot through him. Of course Peter would remember Chris’s weaknesses, the one thing that got him off faster than anything else. Chris arched against Peter, trying to push more of his cock into that mouth, listening to him fight back his gag reflex, throat tightening around the head again and again, fingers squeezing his balls.

“Peter,” Chris groaned, his other hand going to the ceiling of the truck, trying to find traction with his feet to arch his hips under Peter’s hold. “Fuck – close…close…”

He felt the moan reverberate along his cock, felt his balls tighten in Peter’s grip. He squeezed harder and Chris collapsed against the seat, his cock pulsing against Peter’s tongue, feeling him suck and swallow around him.

Chris took a shuddering breath, his limbs feeling heavy and numb. Peter took his cock gently, licking and cleaning him, moaning around his mouthful. He looked down to watch Peter’s lips speared around his cock, just moving up and down gently, carefully. With a breathy sigh, Peter slipped his mouth off of Chris’s softening cock, licking his lips like the proverbial cat licking cream around his mouth.

“We have the Penthouse to ourselves,” Peter said, turning to look at himself in the rearview mirror, hand reaching up to pat down his messy hair, thumb cleaning up the spit and dribble from the corner of his mouth. “I think we should make the best of it, don’t you?”

Chris let out a sardonic laugh, looking away. “I don’t suppose you’ll believe me if I say that I have a headache tonight.”

Peter leaned in close, nipping at Chris’s neck. “I’d still fuck you anyway, Christopher.”


End file.
